


A Warm Welcome

by sonlali



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, fiances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-11-24 14:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonlali/pseuds/sonlali
Summary: Marcy sends Patrick a package with his annual Christmas sweater and a surprise sweater for David.





	A Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nervouscupcakeinspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouscupcakeinspace/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [nervouscupcakeinspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouscupcakeinspace/pseuds/nervouscupcakeinspace) in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> **Prompt:**  
Marcy has a tradition to knit a xmas sweater to her family members and this year David receives one too! David is overwhelmed by being accepted into the Brewer family so tangibly and also by how ugly the sweater is.
> 
> Bonus point: the sweater is a ugly xmas sweater but is actually beautifully crafted because Marcy is a knitting champ.

The bell over the door gives a cheerful jingle as David enters Rose Apothecary. He directs an annoyed glare at the holly berries attached to the bell for the season. That had been an argument for which David had been forced to exercise his _compromising_ skills. Patrick thinks the store should be outfitted to suit the season. David thinks they shouldn’t be jeopardizing their aesthetic for the sake of a holiday that boasts a fugly red and green color palette. Patrick called him a scrooge, and David was forced to concede. That doesn’t stop him from shooting daggers from his eyes at the offending decor each time he enters or exits the store.

After glaring at the holly berries, David briefly scans the store and finds that there are not currently any customers, which isn’t entirely surprising considering the frigid temperature outside. Business has been a bit slower since winter hit Schitt’s Creek in full force. Patrick keeps reminding David that the store is fine, but David is eagerly awaiting the new shipment of Mrs. Tremblay’s alpaca scarves that he is planning on using to lure more customers inside.

David removes his oversized sunglasses that Patrick mocks him for wearing in the winter (“The snow is very bright, Patrick!”). He does another quick scan of the store and realizes that Patrick is nowhere to be found. He moves toward the register to put his bag behind the counter and is surprised by Patrick’s rear-end sticking up in the air.

“Well! Not that I don’t appreciate this view, but what exactly is going on here?” David says while removing his scarf and coat.

Patrick straightens up and turns to David with a wide grin. “David! I didn’t even hear you come in!” He leans in to give David a quick kiss in greeting before returning his attention to what David can now see is a large package.

“Ooh! Is that the new shipment of alpaca scarves?” David claps his hands together eagerly, but Patrick shakes his head.

“No, David, that’s not due to arrive until Friday afternoon. Which you would know if you ever opened the merchandise spreadsheet.”

David dismisses that with a wave of his hand. “Okay, fine, so what’s in this box then?”

Patrick drops down to the floor to sit cross-legged as he tears into the box, looking for all the world like an excited child on Christmas morning.

“It’s my mom’s Christmas package!” Patrick says enthusiastically. “You know how she knits a Christmas sweater for everyone in the family each year?”

“Ohhh, I recall all too well.” David shudders thinking of last year’s sweater featuring a large robin and the one from the year before with a slightly menacing-looking reindeer.

Patrick has finally gotten through all of the shipping tape and packing peanuts and is pulling a blue sweater covered in white snowflakes from the box. Without a moment’s hesitation, he yanks the sweater over his head to wear overtop his blue button-up.

Patrick stands and faces David, smiling so brightly that David is _almost_ able to overlook how hideous the sweater is. There’s a packing peanut clinging to his hair and the collar of his button-up is twisted under the sweater.

David sighs. “C’mere, honey, you’re a mess.” David plucks the polystyrene piece from Patrick’s hair and straightens his shirt collar, while Patrick grins impishly up at him.

“Okay, David. Let’s hear it. Scale of one to ten, how _incorrect_ is the sweater?”

David purses his lips and busies himself with smoothing the creases out of the sweater. “It’s very soft,” he finally says.

Patrick’s eyes are twinkling. “I’m sorry, could you expand on that, please?”

David huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. “It’s better than the murderous reindeer and the giant fucking robin. And it really is quite soft.”

Patrick wraps his arms around David’s waist, prompting David to automatically rest his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick leans in as if to kiss David but stops short. “I think I might just wear this all winter then, since you’re so fond of it.” Patrick is so close his lips are brushing against David’s. “And you know what’s really great? Snowflakes aren’t strictly associated with Christmas, so I can wear this all through January. And February. And maybe even some of March!”

“Okay!” David bursts out. “That’s enough. The sweater is charming in an ‘80s holiday special sort of way, but it absolutely _cannot_ be worn past December! All charm is lost after Christmas, at which point it just becomes a yarn abomination.”

Patrick looks delighted at David’s outburst and rewards him with a long, sweet kiss. By the time he pulls away, David knows that he has a dopey expression on his face but can’t bring himself to care. He’s even feeling charitable enough to overlook the knit nightmare his fiancé is now wearing. The moment is interrupted by a customer entering the store. Patrick pulls away to greet Gwen, giving David’s hand a brief squeeze as he walks away.

While Patrick assists Gwen in selecting a scented candle, David redirects his attention to the box left abandoned behind the counter. He bends to examine the remaining contents. David has discovered and opened a tin of homemade fudge from Marcy’s holiday package by the time Patrick returns to the register to ring up Gwen’s purchases—a baltic amber hearth candle which David immediately upsells to include a cedar pine garland and two peppermint lip balms.

After Patrick walks Gwen to the door with her purchases, he turns back to David with his arms crossed and a stern expression. “So I see you’ve found my mother’s fudge that she lovingly made for her only son, and you decided to just help yourself?”

David tries to speak around his mouthful but only manages a slightly-chagrined _nughf_. Patrick comes back around the counter and smacks David lightly on the ass before grabbing a piece of fudge for himself. He presses a sticky kiss to David’s cheek and dives back into the package.

Patrick extracts from the package a fluffy hand-knitted throw blanket in his signature blue hue. He drapes it around David’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his temple, while David luxuriates under the plush, velvety fabric.

“Huh,” Patrick exclaims quietly.

David stops just short of shoving another piece of fudge in his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick rises to his feet, pulling out the final item from the package. It’s another sweater.

“Mom’s never made me two Christmas sweaters in one year before,” Patrick says.

“It’s black,” David adds unnecessarily. “Quite a departure from her other pieces.”

Patrick unfolds the sweater and lets out a small gasp. “David. David, I—I think this is for you.”

“For me?!” David’s voice raises several octaves, and he crowds closer to Patrick, grabbing for the sweater.

Patrick moves out of David’s reach but holds out the sweater for his examination. The sweater is black with an excessively cheery-looking snowman in the middle of the chest. The snowman has huge dark eyes that appear to be following David’s gaze. He crinkles his nose slightly in distaste before looking back at Patrick.

“Okay, the black is unusual, but there’s no reason to assume this is for me. I mean, _this_—” David waves his hand over the sweater. “This does _not_ look like something anyone would associate with me.”

Wordlessly, Patrick turns the sweater around so David can see the back, which is adorned with a large menorah, carefully threaded into the fabric in a delicate white yarn.

David’s jaw drops and he feels his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. He is at a complete loss for words.

Patrick speaks, and his voice holds its typical teasing lilt. “_I_ am not a delightful half-half situation, so this can’t be for _me_.”

David reaches out for the sweater again, and this time Patrick allows him to take it from his hands. He traces a finger lightly along the shape of one of the candles. He can feel his face rapidly cycling through a dozen emotions, his mouth twisting and eyebrows furrowing. He sucks his lips into his mouth and clears his throat. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Why—Why would she do this, Patrick? Why—She knits Christmas sweaters for _family_. I’m not...I’m…Patrick, why?”

Patrick’s voice loses its teasing tone, and he looks at David softly. “David, love, you _are_ family. We’re engaged now. I think this is my mom’s way of welcoming you to the family.”

David blinks several times in quick succession and clears his throat again, trying to disguise the sudden emotion bubbling to the surface. Patrick raises a hand to cup his cheek. He gently strokes along his cheekbone and looks directly into David’s eyes.

“David, my parents love you and are thrilled that we’re getting married. They want you to feel like a part of the Brewer clan the same way the Roses have welcomed me. And unfortunately for you, that means you will be getting an ugly Christmas sweater from my mom every year. Or, I guess, a Christmas slash Hanukkah sweater in your case.”

David releases a shaky breath and a few tears finally escape. Patrick swipes them away and presses a kiss to the tip of David’s nose.

“Well, um…It’s a very thoughtful gesture, and I’m honored to be welcomed to the Brewer family.” David holds the sweater with the same level of care he typically reserves for his designer knits. He gently folds the sweater and delicately places it inside a Rose Apothecary tote to be taken home that evening.

Patrick leans up to kiss David slowly and sweetly. David finds himself unable to stop stroking Patrick’s sweater as they kiss, his thoughts drifting to his own Marcy original and his new status as an honorary Brewer.

As if sensing that he is not currently holding David’s full attention, Patrick grips David’s hips and pulls him closer, deepening their kiss. David responds eagerly, licking into Patrick’s mouth and letting out a soft whimper. His hands continue to clutch at the sweater as he drags Patrick closer, closer, _closer_.

Patrick groans lowly in the back of his throat and reaches a hand up to cradle David’s jaw, holding him steady as he kisses a path up to his ear. He nips sharply at David’s earlobe, startling a gasp from his mouth. David’s eyes spring open in surprise and he catches sight of the sweater—_his_ sweater—from Marcy, the woolly fabric barely peeking out from the Rose Apothecary tote. David suddenly feels tears prick his eyes again and lets out a quiet gasp of “Patrick!”

Patrick pulls away from where he was pressing fluttering kisses along David’s jawline. He rests his forehead against David’s and smiles gently when he sees his watery expression.

“I can’t wait to marry you, David Rose.”

David laughs shakily and presses a quick kiss to Patrick’s smiling lips. “I can’t wait to marry you, Patrick Brewer. But Patrick?”

“Hm?”

“That sweater is so fucking ugly.”

Patrick bursts into surprised laughter. “Yeah, yeah, it kind of is. But her heart is in the right place.”

“I can’t wear that thing out in public, Patrick. I have a reputation to uphold as the face of Rose Apothecary. People have grown to expect my excellent taste in fashion and aesthetics. That monstrosity would shake their trust in my expertise!”

A wide grin spreads across Patrick’s face, and his eyes are alight with joy. “Okay, David, if you say so.”

They are jolted from their embrace when the bell over the door jingles, signaling a customer. Patrick turns to greet Roland, who skips all pleasantries and asks for peppermint-flavored foot cream.

David snatches the tote holding his new sweater from the counter not wanting to risk Roland infecting the fabric with his presence.

Patrick smiles patiently and directs Roland to their display of foot creams. “I think you mean peppermint-_scented_, Roland, and we do actually have a new holiday collection of creams featuring notes of peppermint."

“No, no, I mean flavored! Me and Joce are planning to engage in some foot-related activities in the bedroom tonight _if you know what I mean_.” He grins lasciviously and waggles his eyebrows at David.

“Oh, God.” David shudders and escapes into the staff workroom before Roland can taint his new Brewer sweater (as he is coming to think of it) with any additional details related to his feet.

\--

Patrick leaves the store before closing, so he can drive to Elmdale for hockey practice. Patrick had joined a hockey team this winter to keep active when it was no longer baseball season. David had learned that sports had seasons when he had questioned Patrick about why he needed to join _another_ sport when he already had one.

When Patrick first joined the team, David had nodded along in what he thought was a rather brilliant display of the “supportive fiancé” while Patrick enthusiastically reminisced about playing hockey with his cousins when they were growing up. Somewhere along the time Patrick launched into a story about his cousin playing for a major hockey league, David had drifted into his favorite pastime reserved specifically for when his fiancé was talking about athletics — fantasizing about Patrick wearing his sports costumes.

Now, when it’s thirty minutes past closing and David is still herding customers out of the store, he’s really wishing he had paid more attention to when Patrick was talking about how many nights a week he would be spending at hockey practice. Had he known then that he would be cleaning up after the tipsy patrons of Twyla’s palm-reading class while Patrick left early for hockey practice, he would have bargained for something in return for his efforts.

David is only able to keep his customer-service smile on his face by thinking about Marcy’s homemade fudge waiting for him back at the apartment. He focuses on the fudge as the boisterous group bounces around the store touching _everything_ and leaving sticky fingerprints all over his beautiful products.

By the time David finishes ringing up everyone’s purchases and escorting them out the door, his customer-service smile more closely resembles a grimace. David spends another half hour cleaning up the store, shuddering while imagining how Twyla had incorporated this suspicious sticky substance into her palm-reading class.

When David finally gets back to the apartment, he is thoroughly exhausted. He trudges through the door and immediately trips over Marcy’s package, which Patrick had dropped just inside the entryway when he stopped by to retrieve his hockey gear.

David glares at the package and sighs loudly, hoping that if he sighs loud enough, Patrick will be able to hear his disgust from Elmdale. Patrick is on the whole a fairly tidy person, so David can never comprehend his tendency to shed his belongings at the door and _just leave them there_. David often finds himself picking up shoes, jackets, and sometimes even jeans that Patrick has dropped just inside the door.

He heaves another sigh and bends to collect Marcy’s package from the floor, smiling fondly despite himself. He’ll complain to Patrick about his messy tendencies until his dying breath, but secretly David loves thinking of how he gets to spend the rest of his life with this man. If that means he has to pick up after Patrick every single day, David will still consider himself the luckiest man alive.

David carefully unpacks the box, taking the half-empty tin of fudge to the kitchen and pulling out the fuzzy throw blanket to drape over the back of the couch. Finally he reaches for the Chrismukkah sweater. David stares at the sweater considering all that it means.

This is a sweater that means family. A sweater that means love and acceptance and belonging. This sweater is a promise for a happy future as part of the Brewer family. This sweater is everything David has ever hoped for knitted into a truly hideous article of clothing.

David feels overwhelmed with his love for Patrick and the Brewer family. He remembers Patrick’s words from this afternoon. _You are family_. When David first moved to Schitt’s Creek, he barely felt a connection to his own family. Now he is surrounded by the love of two families.

David goes to the bathroom to take a quick shower and finds himself unable to stop thinking about the sweater. He looks at himself in the mirror as he completes his skincare routine and imagines holiday cards (very tasteful and thoroughly vetted) with himself and Patrick in matching Brewer sweaters. David is surprised by the toothy grin reflected back at him from the mirror.

He exits the bathroom intending to dress in his pajamas, but his attention is drawn to the neatly folded sweater perched innocently on the arm of the couch. No longer able to resist temptation, David reaches for the sweater and cautiously pulls it over his head, feeling the need to treat this precious object with great care. He looks down at his chest, at the snowman’s beady eyes looking up at him, and feels overwhelmingly content. He sits on the couch and wraps himself in the new throw blanket, basking in the dual layers of warmth provided by the combination of the sweater and blanket.

\--

The next thing David is aware of is a faint tickling sensation along his jawline. He furrows his brow and twitches his nose and hears a slight huff of laughter in response. David slowly opens his eyes to find Patrick kneeling on the floor beside the couch, gazing softly and idly tracing patterns in David’s skin.

“Hi, baby,” Patrick says in a low voice.

“I fell asleep.” David squints up at Patrick blearily.

Patrick laughs gently. “Yes, I can see that, David. I’m sorry I’m home so late. Practice ran over.” He presses a gentle kiss to David’s temple.

David blinks slowly, still trying to shake off his unplanned nap. “I missed you.” The sincerity of his own words surprises David. He hadn’t intended to say that out loud.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” Patrick is positively beaming. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable with the new blanket from my mom.”

He reaches to adjust the blanket over David and pauses, suddenly distracted.

David instantly feels a wave an anxiety pass through him. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick pulls the blanket back to reveal David’s sweater. “I’m sorry, David, what is this _monstrosity_ that you’re wearing? What about your reputation as the face of Rose Apothecary? Our customers will no longer be able to trust your expertise in fashion and aesthetics!”

“Okay, that’s enough!” David sits up and wraps himself more tightly in the blanket to cover the sweater. “I said I couldn’t wear this in _public_. It happens to be very cozy and well-suited for naps.” David sniffs huffily.

Patrick can no longer disguise his glee and tugs the blanket away from David, revealing the Chrismukkah sweater in all its glory. David jumps to his feet to snatch back the blanket, but Patrick tackles him to the couch, straddling his hips and pressing kisses to every inch of skin he can reach.

“You’re wearing your Brewer family Christmas sweater!” Another flurry of kisses lands across David’s forehead, nose, cheek, and the palm of his hand as David lightly shoves at Patrick.

David can feel his ears pinkening, and he shies away from Patrick’s joyous kisses. Sometimes the love Patrick directs at David is so big and so bright that David feels breathless. Sometimes the sincerity and open adoration in those big brown eyes makes David ache. Patrick doesn’t allow him to squirm away. He takes David’s face in his hands and leans down to rest their foreheads together.

“David. David, you’re wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that my mom knitted for you.”

David clears his throat and shifts his gaze to the side. “That…that is correct, Patrick. I am. It’s just that it’s…um, it’s very soft and…and warm.”

Patrick just grins more broadly. “David, you have no idea how happy it makes me to see you wearing a Brewer sweater.”

David finally looks directly into Patrick’s eyes. His mouth twists to the side in a stifled smile. “I think I might have an idea.”

\--

Later that night, David is curled up in bed with Patrick’s chest pressed to his back and an arm draped across his middle. David doesn’t think he has ever felt so content as he is in this moment — wrapped up in his Brewer sweater and in his Brewer’s arms.

“Patrick, I’m really glad to be a part of your family.”

“David, you _are_ my family.”

David glances down at the four gold rings on his left hand and at the deranged snowman looking up at him from his chest and feels a smile stretch across his face. Patrick snuggles closer and presses a kiss to the back of David’s neck. David falls asleep with the words _Rose-Brewer family_ warming him from the inside out.


End file.
